Cosa Nostra
by GirlquinndreameR
Summary: Modern setting. The power of the nation lies in strategy, money, corruption and violence. It's time for Cesare Borgia to establish his ambition and get what he really wants.
1. Prologue

Cosa Nostra

Fandom: The Borgias

Summary: Modern setting. The power of the nation lies in strategy, money, corruption and violence. It's time for Cesare Borgia to realize his ambition and get what he really wants.

Note: "Cosa Nostra" is a phrase referring to the American mafia, translated to "Our Thing"... I think. So, this phrase refers to not only the mafia, but also Cesare/Lucrezia. At least, that's my justification and I'm sticking to it.

* * *

Prologue

Pulling the trigger was like breathing to him. It didn't take any extra effort, it didn't strain his body in any way. There was even an inexplicable thrill that shot up his spine as he pulled the trigger, forcing a bullet into Giovanni Sforza's chest, point blank range.

The light in his recent victim's eyes drained and his corpse unceremoniously slumped onto the cold hardwood floor. Without hesitation, he made his way to the front door, where his right-hand man was standing guard.

"Micheletto," he spoke softly as he walked past the red-headed man, "Let's go."

Micheletto matched step with him and quickly made their way down the fire escape, to the black Maserati parked in the dark alley. They started the car and drove quickly.

* * *

The stars were covered with scattered clouds by the time Cesare arrived back home. His parents' home, a tall two-story mansion of iron gates and cream plaster walls, was only lit with a few outside lights, illuminating the grounds just enough to witness any potential suspicious movement.

They parked the Maserati in the underground garage, next to a line of ten other cars of different makes and models. Both men parted ways after greeting one another 'goodnight': Micheletto to the west wing of the complex, and Cesare to the main house.

The mansion was dark; the employees of the house were asleep long ago, Cesare assumed. With the assistance of dim moonlight, he strode across the marble entrance foyer, up the marble staircase and entered his room, second door to the right.

He began his ritual of undress: black blazer off and slung over a high back chair, pistol out of its holdster and onto the bed, leather holster thrown on the high back chair. He collected a few pieces of cotton, a small bottle of cleaning solution and small cleaning cloths from his bedside drawer and placed it all beside his gun. He reached for a palm-size remote that he had left on his bedside table; one press of the power button and the room filled with Italian opera on low volume.

He slowly disassembled his gun in its parts and began to soak a few pieces of cotton with cleaning solution. Just as he began cleaning the barrel, he saw his bedroom door open right in front of him. A blur of white and wavy gold entered the room in a rush, and then slowly she shut the door, trying to keep her visit quiet from the rest of the mansion.

"Welcome home, Cesare," she smiled at him, holding her white robe tightly closed with a fist.

A smile formed on his lips. "You're still up, Lucrezia?"

She leaned back against the body of the door, simultaneously letting her robe drape open, revealing the matching short lace white nightgown underneath. "You left right after dinner without telling a soul where you were going."

"I did tell someone."

"Besides Micheletto," she arched an eyebrow.

He smirked at her and a glimmer formed in his dark eyes. He tried to return to his task, but as Lucrezia walked to join him on the bed, he couldn't help but notice how her nightgown barely left anything to his imagination. How her peach skin peeked out from the material, how the thin fabric clinged to her body. He had to close his eyes momentarily to focus.

She joined him on his bed in silence for a few breaths, watching him begin a task she was so used to him doing. As he finished cleaning out the barrel, she laid her chin gently on his right shoulder and she softly asked, "Who was it?"

"Who?"

"The poor person who got finished off at the other end of that gun."

"No one important," he answered her.

"Is that so? I heard Papa in his office earlier, talking to someone on the phone," Lucrezia whispered in his ear, tickling it with her warm breath. "He heard something happen at the Sforza apartment."

Cesare slowly turned his head to her. "You're asking, but you already know, it looks like."

She smiled at him, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I just want to make sure that I heard things right." She paused for a moment and then continued. "You know, if Papa finds out, he's going to be mad. He was hoping Giovanni would make a good ally."

"Giovanni is a pig and doesn't deserve you," Cesare spat.

Lucrezia giggled slightly. "You can't shoot every guy Papa wants to match me up with."

"I can if they're assholes who don't deserve you."

"But you don't think anyone deserves me."

"Then I guess you'll be alone," he shrugged.

She looked at him thoughtfully, her body pressed against his frame, chin still on his shoulder. "Hmm... I don't think I'll be alone. Not really." She reached her hand up to his cheek; he closed his eyes at the sensation of her touch. She moved her hand back, fingers gently combing through his curly brown hair, before caressing his neck and settling right at his collar, where she undid the top button of his black shirt.

Cesare opened his eyes and placed the gun frame on his lap. He reached for her left knee with his right hand and touched the smooth skin before rotating to the base of her inner thigh, gently squeezing the soft flesh of her upper leg. He took a deep breath and they slowly closed their eyes, relishing in the company of one another for a few brief seconds.

Moments like these, Cesare thought, were so dangerous. Full of danger, indulgence, wanting...

"Thank you, though," she said to him. "He was rude, obnoxious, cold...and he was an asshole."

"Just doing my duty," he pulled his hand away, back to the cold unyielding black metal before him.

"Your brotherly duty," she mused. "Your loving duty..."

"Exactly," he turned to her again and noticed she was still staring at him. Her steely-blue eyes locked with his and he unconsciously held his breath. He could feel his insides warm as she continued her gaze on him, her fingertips gently playing with his shirt collar.

She flashed one more smile at him before she said, "Bedtime for me. Don't stay up too late."

He didn't say anything, only nodded as she placed herself up with one knee on the bed and a hand to his thigh to prop herself up. Lucrezia leaned towards him, and they simultaneously kissed one another on the cheek. She angled her head sharply to the right; her lips gently brushing the corner of his. Lucrezia kept her eyes forward to the door and she ever so gently opened it and tiptoed out of the room.

As soon as the door closed shut, Cesare took a deep inhale. The air still had that sweet smell of his sister, a soft mix of vanilla and soap. He grabbed a cloth and refocused, buffing and polishing the metal gun feverishly.


	2. Part 1

Cosa Nostra

Notes: Ages... Juan 24, Cesare 22, Lucrezia 20, Jeofre 18. I had to play with their ages a bit. And, this is my take of season 3, little bits of season 2, but mostly it's a game of "can you guess the original scene from The Borgias"?

Part 1

He woke up early that morning, right before his alarm began. Before it had the chance, he reached over to his bedside alarm clock and shut it off. Cesare pulled himself out of bed and dragged his feet to the en-suite bathroom. He began to get ready: combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and made sure he looked decent enough for the breakfast table.

Cesare left his room and walked downstairs to the dining room where most of his family was already sitting for breakfast. "Good morning, Dad," he greeted the head of the table.

"Good morning," Rodrigo briefly peeked up from his newspaper and returned to the black and white in hand.

Cesare continued to greet his family a good morning, with a kiss on the cheek to his mother and a kiss on his sister's crown before sitting down at the long Cuban mahogany table. Within moments, a maid approached on his right side and set in front of him a tray with his usual breakfast: pieces of toast with a side of ham and bacon, and a few sweet cinnamon pastries on the side. He took a sip of his cappuccino before starting on his food.

"So, when is Jeofre coming in today?" Lucrezia asked her mother from across the table.

"We are picking him up late this afternoon," Vanozza sighed pleasantly. "I've been waiting too long. We sent all of you away in some form of another, boarding school or college, and it doesn't get easier with each child. It will be nice to have everyone under one roof again."

"Gooooood mornin'," chimed another male voice. Cesare looked up and raised a brow at the disheveled mess of an older brother who walked into the dining room. His long brown hair was uncombed and his white button down sat half-opened and stained with colors of olive, pink and red makeup. "Mom, Pops, how do you do?" and he leaned down to kiss his mother's cheek and sat down beside her.

Lucrezia silently grimaced over her oatmeal and fruit.

"Fine, Juan," his father briefly glanced up from the newspaper only to double-take at his eldest son's state of dress. "And...how are you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, dear," Vanozza added as a maid set a tray of food in front of Juan. "How are you doing? When did you get in?"

"Pretty late," Juan lazily draped a cloth napkin over his lap and began cutting at the sausage on his plate. "Just hanging out with some friends."

Cesare raised an eyebrow again. He knew what that meant. Most likely, his brother scattered a collective $500 in various G-strings across New York City. "You look like shit," he told him.

"Language!" Vanozza hissed.

"Whatever. Don't start, Chez, it's too early."

"Do tell, Juan," Lucrezia paused from her breakfast. "Which friends? Mindy? Sasha? Candy?"

Under lowered lids, Cesare reached for Lucrezia's knee under the table, a sign to stop provoking their eldest brother.

But as if fate decided to be cruel, the cell phone in Lucrezia's pocket began to buzz.

"And what did I say about phones at the table?" Vanozza hissed again. "Honestly, you kids-."

"And which friend is that?" Juan barked. "Paolo, that damn bum?"

Cesare looked to Lucrezia. She sat silently, eyes wide in mortification and death to the eldest brother.

This time, Rodrigo put the newspaper down to the table. "Paolo? Who's Paolo?"

"No one," she tried to salvage.

"Some poor ass kid she was making out with in her dorm a few weeks ago," Juan informed their parents.

"Oh, Lucrezia..." Rodrigo sighed, disapprovingly.

"It wasn't anything, Papa," Lucrezia continued damage control. "Not like that. He's a nice boy, and he's smart! He achieved a full scholarship at school-."

"Scholarships are just hand outs to broke people schools feel sorry for!" Juan laughed. "Doesn't mean much!"

"Quit it, Juan," Cesare bit between clenched teeth. "You've said enough."

"Oh, just shut the hell up!" Lucrezia jumped to her feet. "You're trying to lecture me on morality but all you do is stick it in anything or anyone you can pay to hold still long enough!" Cesare reached a hand out to Lucrezia's and squeezed it tightly. He silently pleaded to her to calm down, to take a deep breath.

Fire flamed in her steely-blue eyes as she stared at Juan. She managed to pull her eyes away to look at Cesare; within a few moments, she sat back down, squeezing his hand back.

Their mother shook her head quietly, drinking down the rest of her mimosa. Their father groaned, rubbing his temples with both hands. "It's not even 9 o'clock yet. Juan, Cesare," he lifted his hand in the air, shooing them towards the doorway, "Your mother and I need to talk to your sister. Alone, please."

Both men obeyed and left the breakfast table. They passed through the dining room entrance; as soon as they were out of their parents' view, heightened voices could be heard. They paced down the hallway little further and in one breath, Cesare pushed Juan, hard, his back hitting the wall. "Don't," Cesare's dark eyes loomed closely over his brother's face, "Don't pull that shit again."

"What?"

"That's her personal business."

"Don't give me that shit," Juan shrugged. "She's a Borgia. Whatever she does, whoever she messes around with, is the family's business. If she's gonna screw with someone, at least it be someone important."

The same fury in Lucrezia's eyes manifested in Cesare's. He dropped his voice so his words could only fall on his brother's ears. "Don't anger her. You mess with her, you'll have me to deal with."

Juan managed to look unfazed; he even developed a smirk on his lips. "You're such a pain in the ass, Chez, especially when it comes to Lucy. Now if you excuse me, I have to shower." Juan glided out of Cesare's grasp and made his way up the stairs towards his room.

Cesare hung his head back. Older siblings are supposed to be mature, not the insufferable ones. Time and time again, Juan and Lucrezia are always pushing each other's buttons, and every single time, their parents sat through it and let them hash it out. Their mother doesn't dare to take sides, they are her babies after all. Rodrigo is always keen on listening to Juan's side first. Lucrezia has really only one person in this family for her defense. Cesare shook his head.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Micheletto approaching him. "Morning, Cesare."

"Hey. How was your morning?"

"Calmer than yours, it seems."

Cesare chuckled. The whole household probably heard them. "Glad to hear that. Heading out?"

"Yeah. I'm going to check on some associates, make sure things are going okay. Call me if you need anything."

"Alright, I will." He watched him leave through the front door and out of sight.

He began to make his way up the grand staircase to his room. A part of Cesare wanted to turn around, wanted to save his little sister from a shouting contest with their father. But a part of him couldn't handle hearing what could have possibly transpired between his angelic sister and some strange boy he knew nothing about.

And how did Juan know about this? Wait, didn't he visit the campus last month...?

He sat down at the foot of his bed before leaning back. He respected her privacy. If she wanted to share with him, let her share on her own time.

His dark black and gold blackout curtains were still drawn close, voiding the room of any sunlight. He should take the time to open those...

But he still kept concentrating on Lucrezia being with another man. He just couldn't stand the idea.

Just as he closed his eyes, a sliver of light quickly entered and exited his room. "They all drive me crazy. Juan. Papa." She released a frustrated growl as she closed the door shut. Lucrezia invited herself on his bed, lying down beside him, their shoulders touching one another. "I mean, is it bad to meet guys and be attracted to them? It's college, for pete's sake!"

"It's not a crime," Cesare assured her, "but Dad has plans. He was hoping to have you attract the attention of someone rich and connected, like Giovanni Sforza."

"He's practically whoring me out. That's all I am. A pawn. A whore."

"No," he immediately responded, turning his head to her. He hated when she belittled herself. She of all people didn't deserve negative words. "No, you're not any of those."

"Then what? What am I?"

An angel, his mind replied. "Priceless, for starters. Perfection with legs. Hmm..."

She smiled at him, and Cesare released all the anxiety he was holding. "You've ruined me of all men for life. You know why?"

"Because I'm too wonderful?"

"Precisely," she propped herself up on her elbow, her hand cradling her chin. "You're so good to me. There's no one on earth that could measure up to you, I think. I feel like you are always on my side and I'm never alone."

He too propped himself up on one elbow to face her at eye level. "I'll always be there for you."

"I know," she reached her free hand to his collar. He concentrated on her fingertips as they tickled the skin of his collarbone, sending delightful and warm chills down his spine. "I know," she lowered her voice almost to the sound of a whisper, her words fanning his lips, "and I love you for it."

Cesare reached his hand out to her jaw, cradling it gently in his hand as he flicked her dangle pearl drop earring with his thumb. He grinned and leaned forward, brushing her nose with his own.

Lucrezia erupted in a giggle and gently pushed him away before laying back down.

He did have plans on checking on some associates in Long Island, but that could wait, he decided. Laying here beside her was far more important to him.

* * *

Cesare had many memories in his father's office. He remembered how the bookshelves covered the wallspace; he didn't even know if the walls were colored with paint or wallpaper. The grandfather clock near the french doors was always a minute or two fast. He could remember his father kicking his brother and him out of the room while he was doing 'work'...that is, until they were old enough to understand exactly how Rodrigo could afford all the lavish gifts and food.

His father sat in a high back leather swivel chair behind the desk, a strong hand cradling his temple. Both sons sat facing their father in mid-back leather chairs, backs to the french doors; many times, they have sat here for meetings or if they were in trouble.

Based on his father's stern expression, they were probably here for both.

"According to sources," Rodrigo glanced down at a small notepad in front of him, "Giovanni Sforza died in his downtown Manhattan apartment. Alone."

"Heart attack?" Juan asked, flipping the white iPhone in his hand and lap.

"The papers will say stroke. But we all know better..." and his eyes trailed to Cesare. Cesare swallowed the lump in his throat.

"At 32. So young," Juan side-glanced to Cesare, then back to his phone.

"Juan, please, this is serious. Now, Giovanni may not have worked directly in the family, but he was a relative to Caterina. She's powerful; she controls almost half of the cartels on the southern and eastern seaboard. Imagine how it would have benefitted if Lucrezia and he would have gotten along."

"You could have dangle Lucrezia in his view as much as you liked, Dad," Cesare reminded, "but he was an asshole, he talked down to her, and she knows she deserved better."

"He-," Rodrigo looked shocked. "He was mean to her?"

"She told me."

"Of course," Juan muttered under his breath.

"But she didn't tell her own father?"

"How could she when you kept insisting the guy on her?"

Rodrigo shook his head. "Well, it doesn't matter, now that he's dead. He's dead and our family is at risk. Caterina is probably out for our blood. Her, combined with her ally, the Della Roveres, it's only a matter of time before she tries to connect with the other families!"

The Borgias. The Sforzas. The Della Roveres. The Orsinis. The Vitellis. The five families that have influence all over New York City and different parts of the country. There had been a long history of fighting for control. Who took all the major cities, like Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, or Miami? Who made connections to the drug cartels that hugged the southern border? Who had pulled enough influence to weave into the country's government? It was a struggle that Cesare and his siblings were born into, and they each had their role to play. Much to Cesare's disagreement.

"I think there may be a way to clean up this mess," Rodrigo divulged to the men. "The Orsinis and Vitellis want to keep their stronghold over Chicago and Washington D.C., respectively. But let's look at the other side of the tracks. What does the current deputy-chief of Chicago and captain of Washington D.C.'s finest have in common?"

It took a moment to realize it. Juan said it first. "They're related."

"Mm-hmm," a smile stretched over Rodrigo's thin lips. "If we could influence the police, they may see us as a more formidable ally than the Sforzas."

"But how?" Juan asked. "What do you have in mind?"

"Their cousin, Alfonso Aragon, Senior, is up for Commissioner in New York City. And he has a son about Lucrezia's age, studying at NYU as well."

"No," Cesare immediately spoke up for her. "She's not even here and you're discussing plans that involve her."

"Of course," Juan grumbled. "Here comes Prince Cesare-."

"There's no way I'm the only one who cares about her feelings here!" Cesare leapt at her defense. "She feels like a pawn, like she's being taken advantage of. Just a tool in a game. She wasn't meant for this-."

"Of course she was meant for this, you were all meant for this!" Rodrigo rose to his feet and circled to the window behind him. His shoulders rose and he crossed his arms, taking a deep breath. "Everyone," he began to turn to his sons, one fist on his hip, another pointing to each son, "you and you, and she" he pointed to the air, "have a role to play. For the survival of this family, of our companions, I depend on your influence, your diplomacy, your strengths. I need her to exercise her charm to persuasion. I care for her just as much as you do, Cesare-."

"Not likely," Juan coughed.

Cesare sent him a death glare.

"-But she knows what she has to do for our family. End of story."

Cesare took a deep breath, reeling in his emotions.

"Now," Rodrigo sat back down in his chair, "I need the both of you to start doing a little leg work. Juan, I need you to go to Washington and establish some new connections there. And Cesare, I need you to speak with your associates on Wall Street. Our goal is to get the other families and any other influence we can get on our side."

The sons nodded in agreement.

"We cannot relax, even for a moment."

A knock sounded on the door. Vanozza opened the door, dressed in a burgundy knee-length pencil dress and her hair up in a twist. "Dearest, the plane is ready to leave when you are."

"Ah!" Rodrigo stood from his chair. "Time to pick Jeofre up. Behave. And Juan, safe travels. I will see you in a few days." He gave his eldest son a firm pat on the back and left with Vanozza.

As soon as they were out of sight, Juan stood. "Time for me to go."

"Have a good time," Cesare said emptily.

"I will," Juan kept smiling as he took large strides out of the room.

As Cesare sat alone in his room, he leaned his head back. Did he really make a mistake by killing Giovanni Sforza? After all, if he were still alive, they wouldn't have to work hard at trying to tie the other families to them. They always had a mutual agreement to stay out of each other's way.

That was, until he decided to shoot a bullet through the man's chest, changing the balance. Of course Giovanni deserved it, but now with the Sforza and Della Rovere clans breathing down their necks, and the Orsinis and Vitellis not too far off, Cesare was beginning to have a moment of self-doubt.

Then, an image of his sister, furious, telling Cesare that the man spat cruel things to her like "Ugly Bitch", "Slut", and "Your father is just whoring his daughter to me so he'll fall in my family's good graces..."

And then the smile on her face when she visited his room that night after he had shot him.

Damn them all, she was worth it.


End file.
